Author's Note: Man, this is a long one! I'm sorry if the time jumps get a bit confusing; this will be the only chapter that needs them. Enjoy! And also, reviews are appreciated, otherwise I have no idea whether any of you guys actually like this or not, and reviews definitely help updates come faster.
What was it that made Rome the center of the world? Certainly not their thinkers (Aziraphale's notice), their culture (Crawly's), or their alcohol (both.) The definite conclusion was that Greek democracy and Spartan military led Rome to victory, that grab-bag of an Empire Yes, Rome was the best they'd had in a long, long time.
"Since Eden," Crawly said, and Aziraphale immediately went to argue before realizing that he actually agreed.
"I suppose."
"It's this democracy, I'm telling you!"
The angel wasn't exactly sure, but Crawly's continued insistence on this being the cause for the grandeur of Rome was starting to wear him thin. He liked to think it was their tolerance of other cultures, but that was just him.
"Well, it won't be for long," Aziraphale said conversationally, pulling the pair of them down the right wing of the Senate hall.
"What?"
"Have you noticed? Look around. The Senate is losing power every day. It's quite nice actually; they're not giving me quite so much work anymore."
It was quite surprising to see Crawly look so red.
"I don't believe you."
Aziraphale didn't feel good about delivering this news to Crowley. Not at all. Not in the slightest. He wasn't the tiniest, littlest bit pleased that he was destroying the demon's grand idea.
Oh, he was the worst angel that had ever strolled through Heaven.
"Come now, you work with Antony every day. You have to admit that Caesar is the one with the power now. The State is practically throwing Rome at his feet."
A clatter echoed through the marble hall, but Crawly didn't even jump. "I still don't believe you," he said stiffly, but Aziraphale knew he'd done his job. And quite frankly, after all that, it didn't give him an entirely satisfactory feeling.
An out of tune voice drifted to their ears, but Crawly didn't even have the incentive to cover his ears. Instead, he started walking faster… and faster…
Bam.
"Heeey, what'd you do that for?" The drunken Roman general lay sprawled out across the floor, his limbs jutted at unlikely angles. Aziraphale wasn't sure if anything was broken, or if Mark Antony just preferred to relax that way.
"I dunno." Crawly had remained standing, morosely scuffing at the marble below his sandaled feet.
"Gawwwd, you're a downer today!" Antony unsteadily got up, swaying as he grabbed at Crawly to right himself. Crawly didn't move an inch. "I thought you were fun, man! We used to have so much fun!"
"Well, now that you're actually doing something in the government, I thought it would be better if we didn't run around drunk all the time."
Antony pshawed, brushing away Crawly's comment with a swift jerk of his hand. "Just because I do stuff doesn't mean I have to be serious all the time. Come on, you told me that!"
"And now I'm regretting it."
"Seriously! What is up with you today?"
"Antony, are you upset with the lack of democracy in today's system?"
"Um ."
"Democracy. Lack of. Now."
"Yeah. Definitely." Antony stumbled into one of the women that had stepped behind him. "Wait. Huh?"
"Is he drunk again?" Cassius emerged from behind Aziraphale, his lean frame slipping neatly between the slim demon and the pudgy angel.
"Yeah."
The senator sighed with exasperation, roughly heaving the tipping Antony over his shoulder. "I swear to God, Caesar is ruining this empire single-handedly by making him right-hand man."
"No, Anthony's got some good in him. When he isn't fooling around." Crawly leaned over and gave Anthony a friendly pat on the cheek. Antony slung his entire arm around Cassius' head and managed to smack him right back, flashing him a wide, if somewhat alcoholic, smile.
"Hey. Cassius. Do you think Caesar is maybe ruining this place in other ways?"
A quick look of surprise and then suspicion arose across Cassius' face.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean—"
At this moment, Antony promptly and fully slumped onto Cassius and the women following Antony immediately dispersed.
"Do you think Caesar is getting out of hand?"
Cassius gave a slight glance at Aziraphale, and then lowered his voice cautiously, his lips a mere hair from Crawly's ear.
"My answer," he said clearly, "all depends on the simply matter of trust."
Crawly turned his head, his left cheekbone practically leaning against Cassius' right. "I wouldn't be initiating this conversation if I didn't think we thought the same way."
Cassius stayed there for a moment, on his toes, contemplating the consequences of starting anything. For a moment, it almost looked as though he were going to pull back, but just before he stepped away, he murmured almost carelessly, "Follow me. We'll talk."
Aziraphale coughed, like he was completely oblivious as to what was going on. Crawly grinned smugly as he watched as Cassius lugged Antony away.
"Well, I've got a bit of work to attend to. Could you finish that report on the bath pipes?"
"No problem," said Aziraphale.
Cassius, Brutus and Cinna (not the poet) all died after their involvement with the assassination of Caesar. Crawly didn't. First off, it was rather difficult for him to die. Secondly, no one could remember him being there at Caesar's death, or at any meetings concerning the dictator's murder, so there really was no reason for him to die anyway.
And here he was, praising Antony, Lepidus and Octavian (well, he didn't really like Octavian, but Caesar had proclaimed him heir. Also, Octavian didn't particularly like him. For some odd reason, Octavian had voiced his opinion that Crawly had something to do with Caesar's assassination, which was obviously completely and utterly untrue. Completely.
"Heeeey buddy!" Antony slapped him hard on the back, and Crawly returned the gesture. "I've got great news."
"Octavian's dying?"
Antony thought that was pretty funny. Octavian didn't.
"I wish!" He laughed heartily. "No, actually— I'm getting married."
"No shit!"
"And you'll never guess to whom."
"No—"
"Yeah."
"No!"
"Yeah-huh."
"His sister?" Crawly gestured to the bored, haughty man beside Antony.
"Yup." With great pride and a small bit of hesitancy, Antony put his hand around Octavian's shoulder. The smaller, more serious man hardly budged. "I can hardly believe they're related. I mean, Octavia's just great."
Octavian rolled his eyes.
"Soon there'll be little Marks running all around. Told you someone'd get named after me."
"I just can't believe you finally got her to marry you," Crawly marveled.
"Hey, I own the entire East. Can't say no to that." Antony arched an eyebrow and gave a cocky smirk. "I mean, excepting Jerusalem. When I actually get it."
"Thanks for remembering my little town," Crawly said with a smile.
"Well man, it'll be your place." Winking, Antony pulled his triumvirate right down the hall, the serious leader of the West on his right and mild-mannered commander of Africa on his left. Crawly was particularly pleased that Antony had "given" him one of the most valued religious cities in the world. It certainly made Hell happy.
The only thing that would have made this symbolic turnover even better was Aziraphale. Or, to be more precise, Aziraphale's face when he saw the land of God with Crawly. But being an aide to Lepidus had its perks (or drawbacks, for the demon anyway,) and Aziraphale was shipped out to Africa to administer the moment Lepidus stepped into the group of three.
Not like he missed him or anything.
It's just that being the only (fallen) angel watching a whole bunch of humans screw up wasn't quite so much fun without another one watching too. And after all, Antony was pretty good company.
Yes, being in Rome was definitely the time of Crawly's life.
One year later
"What?"
"Yup, yup. Just like I said. Cleopatra coming, the whole shebang." Antony downed an entire glass of wine and immediately filled up another. The triumvirate had been working like a charm, but instead of growing laxer, Antony simply got more and more uptight as time went on. "The nerve. I mean, Caesar would still be alive now if he hadn't been associated with that bitch." Just before he was about to pour another swig of liquid down his throat, he stopped jerkily. "I mean. Don't tell anyone I said that, okay?"
Crawly nodded, but his brain didn't seem to be functioning quite correctly. Honestly? Egypt had nothing to offer Rome, and to see it back on the map again like this absolutely blew his mind. This shouldn't be happening, but it was. Cleopatra was going to shoulder her way back into the world whether Rome liked it or not.
"I… Well, to be honest, Mark, she's tricky. She's really, really tricky."
"Like… how?"
"She gets what she wants. And she knows how to get it." Crawly wasn't entirely sure why he felt this way, but what the hel… heck. He hadn't been able to talk his mind in a while. "So… just be careful. Do you get my meaning?"
Antony stared blankly. "Um. Maybe when I'm less drunk. But God, I've got to meet her tomorrow. I seriously don't want to do this."
"Well, you're gonna. So get to bed."
"Yes, Mommy."
"Oh shut up. You know I'm usually the extremely irresponsible one?"
"I never would have thought."
Crawly would have smiled if he hadn't have had that horrible feeling that something just wasn't going to turn out right.
The Next Morning…
"Did I tell you I didn't want to be here? Because I don't want to be here."
"I hadn't heard." Crawly ruffled Antony's head roughly, causing the ruler to slap him rather hard on the arm. "Ow."
"All right, I'm just going to make a checklist right now." Pompously waving his hand through the air as if writing an official document, Antony cleared his throat loudly. "How to tell if Cleopatra is in town. One, she tries to seduce you. Two, she does. Three, you live together. Four, Egypt takes over Rome. Am I forgetting something?"
"Add in having your babies."
"Okay, that's number four. My God." Antony leaned back, the muscles in his forearms tight and his hands pulled back to reveal the fine, twig-like bones usually hidden underneath his browned and weathered skin. "If she tries to pull the same tricks on me like she did with Caesar, I'm going to…"
"Look. You know better. It's fine." Just a few more minutes of this constant reassurance, and it'll all be over. Just a few minutes. Once Cleopatra gets in here, embarrasses herself in front of Rome and gets kicked out, everything's back to normal. Maybe Antony and I can kid around every once in a while again.
Well, it seemed his wish was granted a little sooner than he'd thought. At that moment, a dark Egyptian strode in the room, his black brows drawn together in false importance and grandeur. "Egypt wishes the best of mornings to the highly respected and great Marcus Antonius. The honorable Cleopatra Ptolemy of Egypt requests an audience." His voice rattled off the words like a man listing vegetables, and Antony had merely nodded his acquiescence before courier had even begun speaking.
Taking his preemptive gesture as a yes, the Egyptian let open the doors to reveal two men holding up a sagging rug. Antony let out a groan of dismay.
"She's seriously not pulling this again."
Crawly gave a sardonic smile. "I think she is."
"Stab me now," Antony muttered as the men let the bottom of the rug unfurl out, a subtle glance of sweat on their cheeks. It took a few minutes for both Antony and Crawly to realize that it wasn't Cleopatra at all.
"Aziraphale?"
"You know this guy?" Antony quizzically looked up at Crawly, then back to the round, blond man who was scrambling to get up off of the floor.
"Yes. Azirius Fallonius. At your service." The red in his cheeks perfectly matched the sunburn that stretched from his chest to his arms. And Crawly wasn't entirely sure why, but instead of standing behind Antony and laughing uproariously, he pulled Aziraphale into a tight hug. The angel stiffened, then relaxed when he realized that Crawly wasn't planning any pratfalls or backstabs.
"That was a pleasant surprise," he said in his eloquent voice. Crawly gave him a hard pat on the back.
"Well, it's going to stay a surprise. Don't expect that every time I see you or anything." He pulled back, hoping that Antony wouldn't think the less of him. Instead, all he saw was Antony looking a great deal more relaxed than before.
"So working for Cleopatra, huh?"
"Yes. Apparently, when visiting, she took a liking to me, and…" Aziraphale shrugged. "I became a 'gesture of goodwill.' Trust me; it's positively wonderful to be bandied about like that."
"Sounds fantastic."
"Absolutely. I told her that I knew you, and she also had a feeling that Antony wouldn't be quite… well…" Crawly suddenly heard a tongue he hadn't listened to in… well, a couple hundred years. The Greek alpha and gamma washed over him again, and suddenly he found himself aching for those long days with a bottle of wine and a fellow man of Go—well, religion beside him. "Wouldn't be quite receptive to her visits."
"Are you serious?" Antony seemed to have broken out of his dull reverie, pointing animatedly at Crawly. "You speak Greek?"
"Eh. A little."
There was a glint of admiration in Antony's eyes as he shook his head in disbelief. "You know, I think I learn something new about you every day. Never cease to amaze."
Crawly smiled.
And that's when Cleopatra walked in.
When Antony completed almost every single bullet point on his list.
Five years later
The silence in the room was stifling. Until that moment, Crawly had never felt quite as helpless on Earth as when he stood watching Antony hold his graying head in his hands, his sturdy shoulders slightly slumped and his jovial, strong eyes start to glean with tears in the candlelight.
"Oh God, I should have…" Antony trailed off, unable to speak any longer. Crawly stayed silent, desperately wanting to add, 'not fallen in love with Cleopatra,' but he couldn't. Not now, anyway.
The door behind them softly clicked shut, and Aziraphale let himself in, trying to avoid his gaze from the pitiful Antony seated in the corner. "Well, I just got a message from Lepidus. He's doing fine in Circeii. He says he didn't… well, he didn't want any of this to happen."
"Did you tell him that I divorced Octavia?"
Aziraphale winced slightly. "Yes. He… um… well, he said something like it was a bad idea. Or something along those lines."
"I knew Octavian was a scumbag," Crawly said stoically. "First he butts Lepidus out of power, and now he's got it in for you."
Antony waved Crawly's accusations aside. "He's a great man. A great general. He just saw opportunity and used it. And I just fed him opportunity over and over and over again."
Suddenly, he stood up, and when Crawly went over to him, concerned, Antony just shook his head. "I've got a fleet lined up at Actium. Cleo's got hers too. I think we'll be starting tomorrow."
"I'm coming with."
"No!" The harshness in his voice surprised Crawly, but instead of calming down, he instead grew close to furious.
"Why are you telling me what to do? Look, I've stood by your side for twenty years; I've been your friend for twenty years, and now you're telling me I can't help you?"
Antony's lips tightened, but he didn't say anything back.
"Give me an answer here!"
"I just… I don't…"
"You want to have all the glory or something? Because I promise you, I—"
"Listen! I don't want you to die, okay? Because that's exactly what's going to happen if you're anywhere near me when Octavian beats me to a pulp. Do you understand?"
His breathing was heavy, and his eyes fiercely intense, but underlying desperation clawed beneath his features. Crawly couldn't speak.
"Yeah. So. I'm going." Antony pushed himself past the angel and demon, though Aziraphale thought that the bluntness wasn't anger, but only a means of hiding his face. Just before Anthony had fully exited, however, he paused at the doorway, his back still turned to the two.
"Hey, Crawly… Jerusalem… it's yours now."
"Yeah," he said.
"No, I mean, for real. I procured it a couple months back. Took it from the Hebrews. Conquest of the East is complete." His chin dipped to his neck, the view of the floor all that was in his sight. "And it's yours. For a few days, anyway."
"Antony…"
"Yes?" His head turned, gracing Crawly with the profile of his thick jaw and curly head.
"I think I'm going to pick a first name."
"Finally."
"Antony."
The Roman's eyes lifted off the floor and met Crawly's, and then, with one last grand, full-toothed smile, he gently shut the door and left Crawly and Aziraphale alone with one guttering candle.
"You have Jerusalem?" Aziraphale asked.
"Yup." Of all the expressions he had imagined on the angel's face, this was not one of them.
Crawly stood, watching the candle twist and split on the wick. Aziraphale just shook his head, a horrible look of melancholy etched across his face as he too left, shutting the door with grace and a drift of air that left Crawly in darkness.
Three days later
"I'm sorry."
Aziraphale didn't look up.
"Not writing to you the ten years you were in Africa. Not really asking you about Africa. Talking to Antony more than you—"
"All right, that's enough."
"But it's true, isn't it?"
"Yes, that was part of the problem, but personally, I'm more upset by the fact that you were practically dependent on this completely fallible human for the past twenty years," said Aziraphale, although he knew perfectly well this was not why he was upset.
"Not dependent. Well, kind of. He… I dunno. He was my project. He had everything— charm, great military sense… and then… he threw it away." Crawly sighed, rubbing his head. "And I guess, most importantly… he was a friend. A very good friend."
"Oh," said Aziraphale.
"I mean, not that… No. You're still a friend too."
Aziraphale said nothing.
"Aziraphale! I mean, come on. I've known you for what? Four thousand years?"
The angel nodded imperceptibly.
"This is ridiculous. I mean, Antony's dead. And we… well, we've got eternity." He gazed curiously at Aziraphale, whose blue eyes still remained steadfast on the marble floor. "Come on; stay mad at me all you want, but just talk to me like you're not just this blob of grunts and nods, okay? You're my friend. Seriously."
Aziraphale paused for a moment, thinking over Crawly's words. "Maybe," he muttered, but he couldn't suppress that mixed emotion of pride and justification with just a hint of satisfaction. Crawly grinned.
"Um, sirs?" A lackey of Octavian's hovered at the doors, only his head appearing from behind the slightly opened doors. "The right honorable Augustus Caesar would like to see you now."
"If we die… wait. What do we do if we die?"
Aziraphale shrugged. "I suppose we'll find out."
The twin doors ominously opened as the two stepped in, the small, dark man that had so often been in the company of Antony and Lepidus seated upon the throne with a garland wrapped around his head.
"Antony Crawly. Azirius Fallonius."
They both nodded.
"I'm not going to wax on before getting to the point of this conversation. Is that clear?"
They nodded again.
"You were both linked with the two former members of the Triumvirate. I've heard you were both extremely loyal to your respective patrons. I don't punish loyalty."
Aziraphale murmured a soft prayer of thanks under his breath.
"I, however, also know that one of you is unhappy with a one-man ruled Rome."
Crawly swore.
"In all honesty, the easiest thing would be to kill you, which I plan to do in about a week. However, if the two of you were, say, not to be found in that week, I wouldn't want to use up my resources on searching for you. Do you understand?"
They nodded vehemently, and bowing, stepped out the door.
"So," said Aziraphale.
"So," said Crawly.
"I guess we're leaving Rome?"
"Yup."
"You know, I've heard some rumors about a place a bit east of here. Maybe we could stop by. Just for. You know. Fun."
"That sounds like an extraordinarily good idea," said Antony Crawly.